The Power of Remus Lupin
by celestialscribe
Summary: Remus is sick with the flu but out of sheer brute force Sirius takes care of him.


_Remus Lupin_. It was funny how much power that name held in the Hospital Wing. With that simple name alone, Sirius had gotten precisely what he'd needed from Madam Pomfrey despite the fact that she'd never liked him all that much. Sirius had spent a fair bit of time in the Hospital Wing himself, not always to visit the werewolf during his recovery from the full moon. As far as Madam Pomfrey and Professor Dumbledore were concerned, Remus' secret had _remained _a secret. However much Sirius might like to turn up demanding that he keep the werewolf company, he had to reserve bedside visits for _after_ the curfew, when everyone else was fast asleep and a vacant darkness enveloped the castle. Under James' invisibility cloak, Sirius would make his way to the Hospital Wing with nothing but the light from his wand for guidance, their half-finished map in hand so that he could avoid running directly into Mrs Norris.

Madam Pomfrey never witnessed the anguish that took hold of him when he first laid eyes on Remus after each full moon. The expression that tugged at his features was telling, as pained as if he'd suffered every bit of the full moon alongside him, but it was a mere shadow of the concern that Sirius felt in his deepest core. More often than not, the full moon left Remus utterly weak, _almost_ broken but never completely. The lack of mercy that deathly orb possessed never failed to render Sirius speechless. But all Madam Pomfrey knew of Sirius Black was that he was a troublemaker. He threw punches whenever someone was stupid enough to try his temper, and that's if he _didn't _have time to fetch his wand from his pocket. Yet at the mention of Remus' name as well as the fact that he'd caught the flu, she had complied with Sirius' demands within an instant, fetching the potion that would cure him in mere hours.

Sirius didn't have time to wonder why Remus hadn't paid her a visit already, why he'd simply retreated behind the curtains of his four-poster in a mass of snot and sneezes that was frankly quite disgusting. He raced all the way up the six flights of stairs to the Gryffindor tower, intent on reaching the boy and bringing an end to his temporary suffering. He was only forced to a stop when the staircase on the third floor rather selfishly decided to change, costing him a good few minutes before he could continue. Had it been anyone else, Sirius would have kept his distance. But this was Moony, and Moony needed him. _Remus_ needed him, just as the werewolf needed Padfoot. Not only that, but _Sirius_ needed _Remus_. He needed to take care of him. Sirius had felt the bitter sting of neglect. He'd had sixteen _years_ of it. He'd be damned if was going to let Moony experience even a taste of that feeling.

As soon as Sirius reached the boys dormitory, he crossed the room to sit on the side of Remus' bed. He was only slightly out of breath, all those hours of Quidditch practise a week clearly paying off, yet his cheeks bore a slight pigment that only made him _more_ handsome than usual. Remus couldn't have noticed, his eyes shut to the bright light that streamed through the arched windows and a hand placed upon his forehead as if he were wishing the world to simply cease to exist around him. It was clear he was in great discomfort, more pale than usual amidst a sea of tissues which had lay strewn across the bed after being carelessly discarded.

"Moony," Sirius breathed softly, his voice lowered in an attempt to spare the boy the pain that anything louder might have induced. The smile that played at his lips would have been a smirk were it not for the sympathy which they so honestly displayed. Remus was in denial. He'd always put up a good fight whenever he was ill, firstly to deny that he was ill so that he could go to all his classes like any other day, then to stave off the effects of his ailment altogether. He was stubborn as fuck, but it never did him any good.

"Sirius, go away," Remus groaned, attempting to sit up before forcing his eyes open so as to look at the other boy. However he didn't get very far, flopping back onto the pillow almost weaker than if it _had_ been a full moon. "Whatever I have, it's not for sharing. Believe me."

Sirius rolled his eyes, an involuntary action, but his expression was more tender than it had ever been in the presence of the other Marauder. Pressing a hand to his shoulder to impress upon Remus that he was to do nothing but rest, Sirius drew the phial of potion from the pocket of his robes.

"For someone who hates being sick, I'm surprised you haven't gone to see Madam Pomfrey yourself. You know, I think she really _does_ fancy you." As Sirius spoke, his hand retreated from Remus' shoulder so as to unstopper the glass phial. This time, Remus _did_ sit up, the sight of medicine within his midst clearly enough to return at least a sliver of strength.

"I-I'm fine," he stuttered, but the mere sound of his voice, feeble with a strange nasal aspect to it that only an ill person possessed, was enough testimony against him. A laugh escaped Sirius' lips. It was probably the wrong move what with Remus in his current state, but the sight of him, bags under his watery eyes and the tip of his nose a bright red from the various tissues that were now scattered across his lap and yet _still_ refusing to accept defeat, was simply too much.

"Remus Lupin," Sirius said, voicing the name of his friend with a strange fondness as he pocketed the stopper of the phial. "Are you trying to tell me you're _not_ ill? That you haven't got snot streaming from your nose and that you're head _isn't_ pounding?"

Remus' brow furrowed in frustration. _Stubborn as fuck_, Sirius thought to himself, unable to contain his amusement at the reaction of the other boy. Remus' eyes trailed a path from Sirius' obnoxious expression, those lips that were mere moments from being pulled into a smirk, to the potion which he clutched in one hand. The look he bestowed upon it was one of utter loathing. Remus knew it was childish, but he wasn't overly fond of medicine. In fact, he _abhorred_ it. It was enough that he had to drink the stuff, or something_ like_ it, after the full moon. It was just a cruel slap from fate that he had to drink it during the weeks between_ too_. Remus had decided that he wouldn't be party to it, his last line of defence against the full moon. Unable to meet Sirius' eye and provide a satisfactory answer, one that would dispel any suspicion that Sirius might have, Remus folded his arms against his chest and gave an ineffectual shrug.

"You said it yourself, she fancies me," Remus replied, hiding behind his usual mask of sarcasm or humour to avoid the truth of the matter just as he always did, then adding a dramatic sigh to further the effect. "Best keep my distance, lest I give her the wrong impression."

Remus kept his gaze where it was safe, the frays at the end of one of the sleeves of his cardigan, the one he often wore to bed or when he was ill, another fact about the werewolf which hadn't escaped Sirius' notice. Every now and again his gaze rested fleetingly on the phial, unstoppered and moments from being offered to him, until finally Remus brought it to meet Sirius'. And as he did, it was Sirius' turn to avoid _his_ gaze. For Remus had caught something in the steely depths of Sirius' eyes that had gone unnoticed in the past. Normally when Sirius was at his bed in the Hospital Wing, darkness had acted as a veil to the more intricate details of the situation. If that same warmth, that tender warmth that was both unnerving and yet extremely heartening all at once, had been there in the past, Remus hadn't seen it.

"Fucking hell Moony, take the medicine, will you?" Sirius' voice was more irritable this time. He was fast realising that he took Remus for granted; not Remus _per say_ but the fact that Remus wasn't normally half as conscious as he was now. Not only that, but in stark daylight there was something inherently more disconcerting about the mix of emotions that Sirius felt upon seeing Remus as incapacited as he was. Fortunately for him, Remus' attention returned to the phial of potion, his nose already wrinkling at the mere _thought _of the taste.

"It's.. it'll pass, it's ju-just a cold." Even as Remus said it, a great sneeze erupted from him and he had to reach for a tissue to wipe his nose in an attempt to retain just a shred of dignity.

"Moony, you're a werewolf. Are you telling me you can't even stomach a drop of potion? What does Madam Pomfrey do with you all those hours?" As he spoke, Sirius lifted the phial to his own nose, sniffing it out of sheer curiosity. In all honesty, he could certainly see what all the fuss was about. For a common potion, it smelt _bloody awful_, but he wasn't about to admit that to the very boy he was forcing it upon. Sirius attempted to bring the phial to Remus' lips, fully prepared to force it down his throat if he had to, but Remus acted just as quickly, taking hold of Sirius' arm in an attempt to stave off the potion for just a short while longer.

If Remus hadn't been quite so ill, Sirius wouldn't have been able to overpower him quite so easily or _successfully_, nor could he have managed it without spilling the potion. "Sirius, don't you da-.." Remus began in warning as Sirius struggled against his flailing arms, but the moment he moved so that he was straddling him completely Remus was so taken aback that he'd managed to slip the potion into his mouth with little difficulty. Remus' hands had grasped the front of Sirius' robes mid-struggle and as the potion made its way down his throat his grip merely tightened. It tasted just as disgusting as he remembered, and it took all his effort not to retch. Yet it was strangely cooling, as if he could already feel its effects, but he knew that even _magic_ wasn't quite as instantaneous as that. For a moment, he considered taking advantage of the closeness between himself and the raven-haired Marauder and swinging a punch in his direction. But he couldn't bring himself to do it. Not only was Sirius right, that he had been a complete and utter wimp to deny himself the cure to his illness, but it just so happened that the same tender warmth that he'd seen in those grey orbs only moments prior had returned.

Remus sniffed, the timid expression that played on his features an indication that he was suddenly painfully aware of just how drippy and disgusting he must look, especially after the struggle that had ensued. With Sirius still on top of him, he was unable to reach for the nearest tissue, let alone a clean one. Not that Sirius noticed, a fact which was even_ more_ troubling. Inwardly cursing himself, the throbbing in his head was slowly lessening and Remus could feel his sense flooding back in, sense which he had seemingly forgotten only moments before.

"Don't you dare _what_, Remus?" Sirius teased, his lips tugging into a triumphant smirk so that he stood a chance at hiding just how much he'd caught _himself _off guard. Dropping the empty phial to the floor, Sirius' hands moved to Remus' with the intention of freeing himself from the werewolf's tight grasp. Yet they lingered there of their own accord, moulding to Remus' hands as his eyes traced the werewolf's sorry features. Remus didn't flinch. In fact, for the first time since he'd forced the potion upon him his expression softened until the warmth that Sirius unknowingly bore for him was almost mirrored in his own features. To Sirius, this was enough reassurance that his presence was welcome, that his care and attention were _appreciated_, confirming that which, up until this point, Sirius had only held as a secret hope; Remus needed him all along, not because he was weak but because he'd _wanted _him. That was the best kind of need known to the raven-haired youth.

"It's not like you listen anyway," Remus reasoned quietly, his strength seemingly returning for a clumsy smile found its way to his lips. Sirius didn't know how he did it, and _Merlin,_ he wished he wouldn't. If Remus only knew what effect that particular smile had on him, he'd know better than to use it, especially when Sirius could already feel his resolve slipping. And yet, as if Remus recognised this, he interlocked their fingers, almost inviting Sirius to do the very thing he'd been fighting _not_ to do. Sirius was almost certain he felt a small tug from Remus' hands, but it was so slight that he was equally as certain that he was merely imagining things. Of course he'd thought about _this_ countless times, though he couldn't fathom why or from what it had sprung. But then again Moony had always been different; when it came to Remus, _he_ was different. Sirius had _never _been able to explain his attachment to the boy, nor the need he felt to protect him.

"For someone who got almost all Outstandings in their OWLs, Remus, you sure do talk a lot of bollocks," Sirius began in a voice that was equally as quiet as if that was only appropriate, now only the faintest smiling playing at his lips. "If I listened to you, you'd _still_ have a stream of snot streaming down your nose." As he spoke, the distance between them grew smaller, Sirius placing a hand against the headboard to steady himself as he naturally gravitated towards the other boy. "It's funny how you haven't sneezed in a good few minutes, isn't it," Sirius continued as if in thought, his breath now skirting against Remus' lips and the tangled, yet undeniably soft, tresses of his hair brushing against his cheek.

"Fine," Remus said, finally accepting defeat, but his voice was almost a whisper as Sirius' breath mixed with his. The warmth of it was enough to bring colour to his cheeks, only adding to the satisfaction in Sirius' smile. Sirius could have kissed him then and there, were it not for the lingering hesitation he sensed in Remus.

"I concede," the werewolf continued, those two simple words thick with meaning._I concede as much as a person_can _concede, as frightening as that is._A shaky laugh escaped Remus' lips. "But if you don't back off, you really _are_ going to catch something."

Sirius shifted as if to move. After all, his work here was done; Remus had taken the potion, albeit reluctantly, and in a few hours he'd be as well as he ever was. Only this time it was unmistakable. Remus' hands gripped the front of his robes, giving a sharp tug until the last few inches that separated them had been occupied and Sirius' lips were pressed against his. Sirius could taste the last of the potion on his lips, he could taste it on his tongue, and as vile as that was, it was infinitely outweighed by everything else that occurred around it. The light pressure of Remus' hand on his chest, the way his other hand wandered freely until it rested at the nape of his neck, and the confident movement of his lips against his; Sirius had wanted this, he'd yearned for it,_ached_ for it even, but never had it fallen so willingly into his lap. For years, Sirius had felt a concern for the boy that he'd never felt for any other, not even James or Pete. He'd casually credited it to the fact that Remus was a werewolf, that he'd felt sorry for him or something equally as daft. Only now, as lips moulded against lips so _naturally_, did Sirius see it for what it was. _Remus Lupin._ It was terrifying how much power that name held in his heart.


End file.
